Happy Little Family
by Radiumimzy
Summary: When Gotham's clowny couple bring a bouncing baby boy into their mad world, Batman must do what is necessary to keep the child as far away from his murderous parents as possible. But fate has a way of bringing us all home, for better or worse. Rated M for violence, language, and suggestive material. (In the process of being rewritten)
1. Chapter 1

"Tell those journalist vultures outside that it's an injury. God forbid the media get any information."

Exactly _when_ it had happened, nobody could really tell but it was quite obvious they weren't meant to find out. Joker and his main squeeze Harley Quinn had vanished from Arkham - as was usual - a few months ago without a trace and everyone had assumed they were either dead or leaving town. As of now, the police and doctors of Arkham were the only ones who knew any differently and they intended to keep it that way.

Harley had turned herself in only hours ago, in the very beginning of labor and very heavy with child. They'd done all they could to make her comfortable at the Asylum, but things were escalating rather quickly between the delivery and the throngs of news crews outside.

As he hurried down the hall of the asylum, Commissioner Gordon looked between the two guards flanking him, motioning that they go assist with the situation outside. They were just as shaken as he was and equally confused. The night had been one of uncertainty and a fair deal of confusion from all sides. As the two younger men shuffled off, the commissioner directed his attention to Harvey Bullock, whom had been following him down the hall.

"Go make sure security is tight. I don't want anyone in or out of this floor and I want the building sealed off." The guards hurried out, leaving the police commissioner to the silence.

"Jim." A deep voice sounded from behind him, but he didn't jump. He was used to this by now.

If it had been any other night, Jim **may** have flinched (as was his usual response to the Batman's impromptu entrances.) Looking to his ally, the two exchanged a nod of greeting.

"How is she?" The Batman asked in his gruff voice.

"Quinn? She's alright. We had a little trouble keeping her restrained so the doctors could deliver. Odd that she'd turn herself in." Gordon watched as Batman glanced towards the window, the roar of police sirens and the dozens of news crews below muffled by the asylum's thick walls.

"She's scared, like all new mothers…" Batman muttered.

"Scared enough not to go back to him, hopefully… Considering everything that's happened. She's lucky the child's father didn't decide to abort Harley himself. I doubt he wanted this to happen."

"He would have done something about it, if he didn't think he'd get something out of this…" The grim detective pointed out, cold face set in stone at Commissioner Gordon.

The two fell silent at this. They knew they couldn't keep the public at bay for long. Someone would slip up, and that would mean a lot of problems for the innocent unborn Harley was in the process of delivering. Who in their right mind would defend the son or daughter of a mad man and his equally insane girlfriend?

Unfortunately, only the two men in the room, apparently.

"Commissioner Gordon, we - Oh!" A knock at the door interrupted their thoughts as a nurse bustled in only to be startled by the sight of Batman.

"He's here to help. How is Harley?"

"We need to move her to a hospital. We really don't have the equipment here to care for the baby after birth… Ms. Quinn's doing well in labor, but we're concerned that without the proper care..."

"That's fine. I'll arrange for an escort. Thank you." The commissioner looked at Batman. "Meet you there?" He asked.

The Dark Knight was already gone, the soft flutter of his cape in the mild night breeze the only signal of his presence. Soon, even that was gone.

The commissioner followed the nurse to Arkham's Infirmary. He froze at the sight of Harley being wheeled down the hall, her eyes glazed in pain as another wave of contractions hit.

"My baby… I want Mr. J please get him _please_!"

A paramedic gently held her shoulder to keep her from trying to sit up. "Please stay still, Miss Quinn."

"N- **no!** No, Mr. J can't miss it he _promised me_! **He PROMISED!** " The clown girl wheezed, her usually lively demeanor and voice sucked dry of energy.

"We're taking you to Gotham General. Please calm down."

"…Hnn! No… He won't know w-where to find me… he won't be-…" She squeaked out before another fit of screaming.

The Commissioner followed them out the back of Arkham, where they were just barely keeping the media and press back from the gates. The world had gone to hell in a couple of hours, and it had started with this small, tiny problem. Gordon's heart ached for the tiny life being brought into the world under such chaotic circumstances. Something so innocent had come from two people who were so deranged…

"Commissioner, we have room for one more in the ambulance… like a ride?" A paramedic asked. Gordon nodded quickly and jumped in.

"…How's the baby? Is it…"

"Alive, yes, but the sooner we get there the better." The paramedic answered simply, helping Harley through another wave of contractions.

Gordon sat back a bit to give them space, lifting his radio. "We're ready to depart. Squad cars prepare for an escort to Gotham General."

The ambulance arrived after only a few minutes, and they rushed both mother and child into the hospital, a group compiled of doctors and police officers dashing down the hall with Harley in tow. The doctors all seemed anxious and on edge, as if expecting the Joker to burst in at any moment.

It wasn't long before Harley delivered her tiny son and had been prepared to kick and fight the moment the baby had given his first cry.

"Give me my baby! Give him _give him_ **GIVE HIM DAMN IT**!" She'd shrieked, only intensifying her child's own cries. The doctors had had to wrestle her to the bed to sedate her enough to even let her hold the little boy.

The doctors gave her just enough space, standing at the edges of the room while police officers stood guard outside the door. Harley was in her own little world, tearful and smiling peacefully as she tried to quiet her shrieking infant son.

"It's okay baby… I kn…know _they scared you bad_ , huh? Those _mean bad doctor types_ …" Harley slurred, fighting the sedatives in her system. "But you don't gotta worry now. I'm your mommy. I'm gonna keep you safe, okay? Safe an' snug as a little bug. Hee!"

Commissioner Gordon entered the dimmed room quietly, observing the scene along with the terrified doctors. Harley bounced the child to try and quiet him, which finally seemed to work. The black haired boy's crying turned into soft whimpers and gurgles as a weary smile grew across Harley's face.

"You look just like your daddy. Y'got his hair an' I betcha get his laugh, too… his beautiful laugh…" She giggled to herself, rocking him against her chest before continuing in a hush. "You make me so happy, baby. Y'daddy makes me happy, too… We're gonna be a happy little family."

One doctor seemed to grow bold and moved forward. "Miss Quinn, we really need to take him now. He needs medical attention-"

"N-…no. No he needs ME. He's MY baby an-… and he needs his… his mommy! Right baby? Happy baby…"

The doctor approached and summoned an orderly forward to assist, gently tugging the baby from Harley's lethargic grip. As she reached, the orderly held her back to which she responded with as much energy as she could muster.

"No… no lemme go! Let go a'me! Give him back to me! GivE HIM BACK NOW! GIVE ME MY BABY!"

"You need to rest, miss. He'll be okay. They're just going to clean him up and-"

"Don't you lie to me! I know wh-what this this I KNOW! You're trying to take him away from me 'cause you think I'm gonna hurt him! HE'S MINE! YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM!"

Gordon stepped forward, wanting to intervene - it broke his heart to hear the pain in her voice - but he stopped himself, teeth grit and fists clenched. This was for the best.

"PLEASE! GiVE Him BACK TO ME! GivE HIM BACK!"

Harley sobbed until she was finally sedated again, going out like a light. The commissioner stepped into the hall, taking a seat to process everything. This all felt so… surreal. Like some kind of tragic nightmare. His guilt tugged at his chest. Harley was likely never going to see her child again and thought that was for the child's best interest, he couldn't help but feel it was cruel. Stopping a nurse as she left the room, he tried to ease his conscience a bit.

"Let her name him. She deserves that much. Even if you can't let her see him again, at least let her name him. Understand?"

The shaken nurse nodded slowly before bustling off to help elsewhere.

The baby was put in the maternity ward to rest. After a cup of coffee in the waiting room, only once the hustle and bustle had calmed, he moved to the empty window where he'd stood years ago when Barbara had been born. He remembered the joy and pride he'd felt, gazing into the room where his tiny little girl slept. Now, it was where a madman's son lay blissfully unaware of his own origins. Gotham had a record of ruining happy memories. His chest rose and fell as he slept and his fisted hands moved only slightly.

"How's the child?" the Dark Knight asked, making his presence known from the corner.

"You still think you can surprise me, don't you?" Gordon asked, turning to look at Batman whose face remained the same. The commissioner smirked and looked at the baby once more. "He's fine. Care to look?" He asked over his shoulder.

Batman didn't answer. He simply stood there and clutched his hidden fists at his sides hesitantly.

"It's a baby, Batman… not a bomb." Commissioner Gordon summoned him over. Soon the Dark Knight walked to peer past the window and into the tiny glass case.

Gordon watched for an emotion from the knight and to his surprise he scored a sight at a rare smirk. It quickly vanished and Batman stepped backwards towards the wall, clearing his throat. "Where will he go?"

"Probably into the system… I don't suppose the state is going to allow Harley to keep him."

"Joker has enemies… and they'd do anything to get to his kid. I'm not too terribly convinced that Joker is as uninterested as he seems to be."

"I'll work with my relocation people. They'll get him to a foster home off the radar and as long as nobody tells him who he is, he'll be fine."

"Someone's already let the news leak, Jim. By tomorrow morning, there's no doubt in my mind that it'll be all over the news." Batman sighed.

Gotham's Knight stepped to the open window to take his leave, but was stopped by a commotion out in the hallway. Batman stayed in place while Jim rushed to see what the rush was about. A doctor approached him quickly, the same one who'd assisted in the ambulance, his eyes widened in panic.

"Commissioner Gordon!"

"What is it? Is Harley awake? Did she get out?"

"No, no sir it isn't Harley… It's Joker! He's just set off a bomb on main street at the parade."

"Parade?" Batman glanced off towards downtown Gotham where an unusual luminescence hovered near main street. A vibrant array of flashing purple gold and green accompanied music he could almost hear from here. The date had escaped him, but all too soon he remembered what today was and what significance it may have to Joker, other than the birth of his son.

"Mardi Gras…"

"Batman, do you think it might be a diversion to get us away from the hospital and Harley?"

"I doubt it, but stay here with a team. I'll handle Joker." The detective growled, heading for the window. He caught the Commissioner's gaze.

"Good luck."

The two said their silent goodbye - duty called, after all - and Gordon was ready to head down to set up a perimeter and order teams to main street before he turned back to the sleeping baby, curious.

Looking to the clipboard on the boy's bed, he was given confirmation that the nurse had done as he'd asked. Harley was the only one who would have devised such a name for her son and the commissioner felt second hand embarrassment.

"Happy Jack Quinnzel…" He read aloud, looking the peacefully sleeping boy swaddled in blue.

"Lucky you get to sleep through all of this." He muttered before turning to leave the boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Just past four in the morning, Batman made it to the chaos unfolding on main street. The parade floats had comes to a halt, their lights still blinking while some were nothing but flaming bulks of paper Mache and confetti. The vigilante froze in horror, watching the paramedics wheel a gurney away from the scene and back towards their trucks, the blackened and burnt form that of someone child-height. If the person were still alive, they barely looked it. They'd been burnt alive and it further fueled the rage in Batman's core. People fled the scene as quickly as they could, leaving the street deserted as the Batman descended on the square. Almost immediately, he recognized a pair of purple suit legs sticking out from beneath a float, feet tapping slightly as a cheery tune was hummed into the night air. One might have thought he'd been run over, if not for the sound of metal on metal, of tinkering emanating from beneath the parade float.

He knew the Joker knew he was there. There was little reason to be the first to speak. Joker had always been the mouthier of the two. Given time, he'd start into a monologue.

A moment later, and he did.

"Well if it isn't my winged compadre!" The clown shimmied out from beneath the car, tossing a wrench to his side and wiping a fake sweat away from his forehead. "Having a happy holiday, I presume? I can never tell with you, darling, what with all the latex and self loathing." Joker chuckled, tugging off his work gloves.

"What are you doing?" Batman asked, his voice cold and emotionless, and the Joker's grin widened.

"Adding a little flare is all! This is just poor craftsmanship, Batsy. Thank goodness I showed up when I did, otherwise the parade wouldn't have been such a rousing success!" He shouted as the float behind him burst upwards into flames. The Joker delighted in the boom, cackling gleefully as he turned to admire his handy-work.

Batman glared back, standing at the ready.

"Dancing and lights are one thing, Bats, but where, I ask you, was the gravitas before your's truly showed up?"

He laughed lightly with a beaming look of pride.

"Somehow though, I don't think you quite appreciate my effort."

He was right about that.

Batman stared back at him, repulsed as always by how flippantly the man regarded his own acts of atrocity, how he treated what he was doing as nothing more then a joke. But he stared also with a sense of unease and conflict over what he now knew.

"What, nothing to say? Honestly, if you're this boring at a party, I'd hate to imagine you in bed. Poor Catwoman."

He glared at the Joker, his frame rigid and still.

Joker was about to launch into another quip before Batman cut him off.

"How long have you known about Harley's pregnancy?"

Silence. Joker's mouth snapped shut and his smile lessened only slightly, eyebrows drawing together.

"I know you knew. Why let it go on? Why let her have the child at all? What's the game, Joker?"

For the briefest of moments, the Joker looked as though he was genuinely caught off guard. Batman wasn't able to gather the sincerity of it before the madman bounced back and grinned with a soft tut tut.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Batsy." Stepping forward and motioning the bat closer - the detective didn't move an inch - Joker whispered theatrically, "To tell the truth, the little brat's condition was rather poorly timed. I've been readying this little scheme since before she became ever more fat and useless than before. Harley never did have a good sense of comedic timing, though. Had to go and get knocked up in the midst of more important things."

Batman frowned.

He absolutely loathed the Joker's voice. Very little could get under his skin, but the clown just seemed to know how to work him to his very breaking point.

"Don't you worry, I have plans for the brat's little mistake. Sure, Harley may be a bit upset, but she'll get over it. She always gets over it. Durable little pest, isn't she? Just doesn't know when to quit."

It seemed a while before the madman's mirth finally died away, and he straightened, looking hard at the vigilante. He could see the anger growing in his eyes, the fury building behind that so easily toppled wall of stoicism.

"Well come along Batsy." He started, his voice quiet and sure. "The move is yours." He smiled, holding his hands wide in invitation.

In a flash, Batman was on him, barreling in to him, and the Joker's voice rose in laughter and he was pushed to the ground.

"Strike a nerve, Bats?"

"Shut up. You aren't fooling me, Joker." The crusader growled, inadvertently leaning back, off of the smaller man.

"Fooling you? Oh, my delusional Dark Knight, I'd never do such a thing!"

"You're afraid… You wouldn't be going to such great lengths to convince me you don't give a damn if you weren't."

And the Joker moved as quickly as a viper, producing a knife from his freed sleeve and swiping the blade at Batman's face, just barely nicking his jaw.

"Bzzzzt! Oh, sorry Bats, but the correct answer was: I don't give a damn about that squabbling brat!"

Bruce sprang at the madman in the midst of his words, latching tight to his wrist and squeezing down, forcing the weapon from his hand.

The Joker choked out at the pain, dissolving fast in to more laughter as the vigilante laid his hand against his chest and pushed him back down.

The Joker stared up at him with focused eyes, the grin never leaving his face.

"You would have killed Harley or the baby or both a long time ago if this meant nothing to you."

"Would you stop with the psychoanalysis?!" The Joker snarled, clearly bothered by the continuation of the topic. "It's really not doing much for the mood."

Joker didn't hesitate to use his now free limb, reaching forward and latching to one of the ears on the vigilante's cowl, pulling at it roughly.

Batman growled, forming his hand to a fist, rearing it back and slamming it straight in to the Joker's solar plexus.

The Joker gasped loudly then, the air being ripped from his lungs as momentarily he fell limp. Batman took the opportunity to tear his hand from his head before ramming him to the ground, against his shoulder, rolling him on to his stomach and jerking both his arms behind his back.

The Joker choked out more laughter as the crusader shoved his boot down against the back of his neck, holding both his wrists together as he retrieved his handcuffs.

"All serious business tonight, are we dear?" The lunatic chuckled, his face being pressed in to the dirt. "I swear, you're just no fun when you're like this."

"Shut up." Batman said, giving the Joker's arms a painful tug in warning before slamming the manacles down over his skinny wrists.

But the Joker only grinned.

"You want to talk about the baby so badly, fine. We'll talk about him. I've never had the chance to bleed a baby before. I'm curious, how long do you think it'd take him to bleed out by his tiny -"

Having heard all he could muster, Batman bashed an elbow into the Joker's nose, instantly silencing him and knocking him to the ground, unconscious. With a heavy sigh, the vigilante lifted the Joker up and hoisted him over his shoulder, beginning the trek back to the bat mobile.

Perhaps the Joker truly didn't care about the child. Batman could have no real idea of what was going on in the madman's mind. All he knew was that for better or worse, Joker would never see the boy.

He would make absolutely sure of it.

At least he could count on a silent trip back to Arkham.


	3. Chapter 3

Months had passed, and her puddin' hadn't made a peep since the baby was born. Harley twirled her fingers in her blonde pigtails and bit her lower lip. Her biggest concern, besides her fear for her little baby boy out there somewhere, was that Mr. J's silence was due to his rage towards her.

At least she'd had a boy… if it'd been a girl, puddin' might not have been so sweet. He was amused, when she'd first told him, and he had acted surprised and held her so gently, telling her how happy he was.

And then she lost his support over the months when he realized that he couldn't rely on a pregnant hench-wench. However, for some reason that Harley couldn't place, he hadn't hit her or kicked her since the day she told him about the baby. He was so careful not to hurt her or the tiny life inside her, but now he wouldn't even speak to her or wave back at her when they saw each other in the halls of Arkham.

Ivy had been extremely supportive, and provided comfort to Harley that the baby would be fine, but it didn't matter how safe the baby was… she wanted him in her arms enough to make her cry.

Her only source of bravery as she crept down the dark hall was the thought of getting her little baby back to her, and having Mr. J happy again. She knew the way to his cell by heart and she knew just how to get past the security without anyone even knowing she was out of bed.

Bare feet made no sound as she tiptoed masterfully to his cell door. She'd gotten sweet mister Two Face to pay off the guards to her hubby's cell. As promised, a key sat just outside the solitary confinement door.

She opened it slowly and went in, closing it as quietly as she could behind her. Harley stood nervously at the doorway and blinked at his figure on the bed. He wasn't asleep… no, he was just sitting there, back against the wall and legs stretched out on his cot. His arms were crossed and his face was completely stoic.

It gave her the chills to see him so emotionless, and she couldn't help but whimper sheepishly as she spoke.

"Puddin'… I don't want you to be mad at me." She got no response from him, but she did notice his manic green eyes now rested on her shaking form. She continued, forcing the bravery for her son.

"I'm so scared, Mr. J. I want my baby back, and I want you back… why ain't you been talkin' to me? Did I do something wrong, Puddin'?" Harley held his stare and knit her eyebrows together as tears collected at the corners of her baby blue eyes.

"Puddin talk to me! M'sorry for whatever I did…" She sobbed, running to his bed and throwing herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his waist and crying into his prison shirt.

He looked down at her and his frown deepened. The child had caused so much drama in her and all through her pregnancy he'd allowed her to have these little mood swings. He'd thought it was somewhat endearing, but now it was just Harley.

"Will you kindly stop snotting up my shirt? Laundry day isn't for a week." He grumbled, tilting her chin up. Those baby blue eyes pierced his adoringly. God, all he had to do was speak and she wrapped around his little finger. He ran a hand over her blonde head affectionately and smiled. "You aren't fat anymore, pooh."

Harley couldn't help but giggle at this. Her smile quickly faded though and she crawled up to rest her head against his chest, cuddling close to his side on the small cot.

"Oh Puddin', I wish you coulda seen him. He was so beautiful and, and he looked a lot like you. I want him back so much it hurts." She clutched at his chest, tears welling up once more.

The Joker observed her. She truly wanted the brat... he could see it in her pain-filled face.

"…Harley, we talked about this." Joker muttered, kissing her forehead. "What did I say about families?"

Harley rubbed her nose and looked up at him. "…Crime is no place for squabbling brats… I know puddin', but maybe if you taught him to-"

"Harley, you cant teach insanity."

"But you taught me."

"No, I warped you, sweetie pie. Like my very own twisted little lab experiment. One annoying brat hanging around my neck is more than enough for me, thank you." He muttered in her ear, making her giggle. Funny how he could call her a parasite and still get a sweet little laugh out of her.

"…I got to write his name down, Puddin'." She mumbled softly.

"And what did you put down, Harls?" He asked, his good mood somewhat offset by this talk of babies again.

"I named him Happy… Happy Jack Quinnzel." She bit her lower lip and waited for approval.

Joker mulled this over for a moment. "Why on earth would you name the poor brat 'Happy'? I mean, I know we're clowns Harl, but that a bit insulting. Why not something practical like Bozo or Clunkers?"

"Gonzo was my fallback, but see I was thinking' that whenever he introduces himself, he'll always say 'I'm Happy'…. Because he is, Puddin'. Our happy little Happy. Kinda funny, right?" Harley laughed half-heartedly, praying he got the joke.

Much to her relief he did chuckle and patted her back lightly. "Good work, Harls. A joke to last his entire life!"

She cuddled up against him, cooing softly at the praise.

"…But you should'a seen him, Puddin'. How he curled up his little hands and made little baby noises… he was so cute. I've always wanted a little JJ, y'know?"

"Harley, I'm the only J you'll ever need! Now, stop all this silly talk about babies and we'll get back to the way things were. Nothing funny about old material. Now, where's my Harley girl's smile?"

Heart sinking, she obeyed and didn't protest further. She let a pretty smile grace her lips and melted as he kissed her tenderly, but the remorse hung heavily in the back of her head. He was so happy to just move on and forget that their little miracle had ever happened. Sometimes, Harley wished she could be as callous as her beau.

"Say, I bet Bud and Lou are missing their mommy. You still got that key Harv left for you?" He asked, holding a hand out.

"Sure thing Puddin'! My poor puppies, all alone in that cold warehouse. Can we go home, Mr. J?" She asked, pouting her lip slightly. She grinned as he nodded and the two leapt from the cot to prepare for their breakout. It was practically a routine by this point and before the guards knew what had happened, the couple were out of the building and working their way through the sewers to their happy home.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. Short chapter today, but revisions are going well! Leave a review if you like something or if you don't like something! Feedback is very much appreciated!

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The McDowell Home for Boys sat off the proverbial beaten path, in the densely wooded upstate area that sat north of Gotham city. It was well funded, and very large, thanks to multiple donations by the Wayne Foundation and other private benefactors whom had ensured the long life and extensive success of the home. The building was a large Victorian structure, four stories high, with multiple peaks in the roof and a large wrap-around porch that boasted a beautiful array of purple flower baskets hanging on each corner. A white picket fence separated the large front yard where boys darted about in play from the dirt road it was located on.

The serenity of the scene was dashed, however, by a great commotion on the grass. A huddle of boys circled around and shouted at two figures, kicking and clawing at each other as they tumbled about in the dew covered lawn. The cheers and shouts were a mixture of taunts and warnings to the two youths that were tangled in a fist-fight that in a matter of seconds had turned into a wrestling match.

Happy Quinnzel kicked away from the other boy, Denis, and looked down at his tan slacks now stained with spots of green. He shot him a glare through his bruised, swollen eyes and dove back towards the other child with a shout.

"Take it back!" The twelve year old yelled, delivering a sharp kick to Denis Mathew's side. Air forced from his lungs, Denis wheezed and grabbed Happy's leg, dragging him close and forcing his face down into the grass.

"Your parents named you wrong, freak! You're more like a Grumpy or Dopy or Stupid."

This gained a mixed response from the gathered crowd, some encouraging and some whispering that a head mistress may be coming. Happy struggled to no avail, angry tears springing to his eyes and wetting the grass against his face.

"Aw, you gonna cry, cry baby? Want your crack-whore mommy to come get you? Come on, cry, cry baby!" Denis taunted, grinning at the multiple cheers from the crowd.

Hatred and entropy sparking in his eyes, Happy's voice cracked with his shout and with all the might he could draw from his frail arms, he ripped himself upward and in one fell swoop, bashed Denis Mathews into the grass below. Denis tried to lift his arms to cover himself, but Happy was faster. He planted a knee into the other boy's solar plexus, earning a guttural sound from the other. Closed fists beat down repeatedly against Denis' face and shoulders.

"Shut up! Shut up I hate you! Fuck you! I'll fucking kill you!"

"Happy Quinnzel!" A woman yelled from the porch, making her way towards the group that was quickly separating.

Happy stopped his assault only momentarily, confusion sparkling in his expression. "… Huh?" A whimpering sounded below him, breaking him out of his trance. It took only a second to understand: he'd lost time, again, and unfortunately, Denis had come looking for a fight at a really bad time.

Rough hands tugged him up and away from Denis, before gently switching to the more bloodied of the two.

"Are you alright, Denny?" The head mistress cooed, struggling to lift the sobbing child.

"M-My face hurts! I think he b-broke my nose!" Denis wailed, pointing at Happy accusingly.

Happy opened his mouth to protest - he hadn't even started the fight - but was silenced by the seething look Mrs. Madel shot him. Better to keep quiet than try and save face.

Mrs. Madel helped Denis to his feet, wiping at his bleeding nose with a handkerchief. "You're alright. Go on inside and wash your face. I'll be there in a minute." She said sternly, sending the blubbering and whimpering child into the house before turning her tired gaze back to Happy. "We talked about this, Happy. You can't keep doing things like this!"

"I lost time, Mrs. Madel, I'm sorry! I don't know… I don't know what I-"

"Enough of your excuses! No one accidentally beats the snot out of another boy. Come here."

The black-haired boy sheepishly approached. The older woman grabbed a clean rag from her pocket and went towards him, attempting to wipe the grass and mud stains from his face. She sighed with a deep frown and shook her head. "First you can't sleep. Then you start into this violent behavior and I don't think I need to remind you about the incident on the roof. Whatever this is, it stops right now. Happy, are you listening to me-" She noticed his gaze was off to the left, focused on something with widened eyes and a stock still face.

Mrs. Madel followed his gaze and saw a nice couple standing in front of their blue mini van, obviously shocked by the violent display they'd witnessed. No doubt they'd seen the entire fight, because as soon as they knew they were noticed by the scrappy little boy, they quickly made their way to the door and went inside to avoid the strange child.

Maggie Madel looked back to Happy in time to see tears welling in his blue eyes. He hung his head in shame, black locks falling into his face. The older lady gave a sad sigh and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We can talk about the fight later I suppose… for now, It's nearly lunch time… go inside and wash up, okay?" She said, wiping a small tear on his cheek away.

"Y-yes Misses." He mumbled in a soft voice, sniffling a bit before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

As Happy entered the house, he saw the couple from earlier, watching one of the younger boys play with finger paints in the front room. They smiled and fawned over him, like his pointless little hand prints on a sheet of paper were artistic genius. Idiots.

He pushed his way past a group of boys and went up the spiraling staircase, careful to keep hold of the railing as he went.

The young boy brushed at his pants, trying to remove the stains, but found it useless and gave a great sigh. Plucking a twig from his black mess of curly hair, Happy found his bed and flopped down upon it with a groan.

"What did he do this time?" A voice from the top layer of the bunk-bed asked, a red-headed boy peeking over the railing at his bunk-mate. Regie, as he called himself, though everyone knew his real name was something stupid. He'd chosen his own name to avoid getting the snot beaten out of him.

Happy wished he had thought of that.

"I don't know... Made me mad, I guess." Happy muttered.

Regie rolled his eyes and went back to lounging on his bed, comic in hand. "He's just a little shit-head… not worth getting your ass kicked over."

Happy furrowed his brow, reaching into his pocket absently, only to find something missing.

His postcard; he always carried a postcard Mrs. Madel had brought back from Gotham City for him. Rapidly going through his twisting memory of the day, he realized that must have been what Denis had done to make him mad. The memory instantly formed in his head, previously lost to one of his day-dream blackouts, of the other boy ripping it up and tossing it into the fish-pond.

Frown deepening, he was more concerned that he couldn't remember something so important. Why couldn't his brain just be normal? Why did his memories have to play evil tricks on him?

Sighing, the boy pushed himself up off the bed. No use lying there and feeling sorry for himself. Lunch was probably ready by now.

As Happy left the room, he saw Denis coming out of the bathroom and stopping to talk with his friends. They all looked over at Happy for a moment, then continued whispering vehemently.

The young boy only rolled his eyes and continued downstairs. He froze for a moment when he saw the couple smiling and laughing with the littler kid, obviously falling deeper in love with the child ever second…

Nobody had ever cooed and fawned over him like that, but then again Happy had never been a very pleasant or sweet child. He was physically scrawny and a bit awkward, with a narrow face and unsettlingly large and pale blue eyes that seemed to make people a bit uncomfortable.

Mrs. Madel stood at the counter with a couple of the older boys who were assisting with lunch. One of them, the tall blonde haired boy, properly dubbed 'Twinkie' by the rest of the home, handed him a plate with a sandwich and apple on it.

"There you go, Joy." He rustled Happy's hair and went back to making a meal for the next kid.

"… it's Happy." His frown deepened as he was ignored, trudging off to sit on the porch.

He watched the kids on the lawn run and play tag football, a game he was not invited to play after an incident in which he broke another boy's arm in a tackle. He closed his eyes and pictured himself on a green lawn, running and playing with a tall, dark haired man with blue eyes, or maybe green or brown…

A smile crept onto his face and he could almost hear his voice, see his clothes and smell his cologne. Calling him 'champ' or 'buddy', picking him up on his shoulders and swinging him around. Mom was calling from the house that it was time to go inside. He'd laugh, and his father would laugh, and they'd obediently go inside as mom commanded. This was the American family… The Leave It To Beaver family from TV. What every young boy wanted and what the lucky ones were promised to have from birth. To want for nothing and to love and be loved;

It wasn't a day-dream, it was HIS dream, and it was the only thing he had ever asked for. On birthdays, Christmas and New Years, he'd always secretly wished, hoped, and sometimes even prayed for his Forever Home.

The sensation of feeling wanted and the euphoria of being not-so-alone in the world; It made his heart flutter rapidly against his ribs.

A moment later, he realized the game of football had ended and the sky was a bit darker than it had been.

He'd lost time again.

Discarding his now cold sandwich in the kitchen garbage, Happy climbed the stairs to the bedroom, changed into pajamas, and hopped into bed. Turning his head towards the open window, he could see the glowing skyline of Gotham City far away in the distance.


End file.
